


The look of the thing

by TheSingerThatYouWanted (orphan_account)



Series: The Mighty Boosh Christmas Countdown Thing [5]
Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, pre-slash I think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2739935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheSingerThatYouWanted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's lonely, getting your own room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The look of the thing

**Author's Note:**

> I've now somehow completed everything on my to-do list except the homework. Damn. No more procrastination, then.

It was 2am and Vince was drinking soda from a beer bottle.  
He didn’t normally drink- he’d never seen the appeal of waking up not remembering what he’d been laughing about- but he hadn’t slept for three days and the look of the thing had always been important to him. If he was going to act like the kind of lovesick drunk who spent the nights inside a bottle then he was damn sure he was going to look like one. So he’d reached a compromise, even though nobody but him would ever see it. Even the weather seemed to know what he was doing- rain poured down in sheets, flooding the pavement and shaking drainpipes so hard it seemed as though they could break away from the walls at any moment.  
He gazed sadly around the room, taking in the blank walls that were still a disappointing shade of beige. There were several tins of red paint stacked by the door, but they were painting the other rooms first and hadn’t yet got to his. So it remained depressingly beige, though Howard would probably have called it “dignified muffin” or some such nonsense.  
It was a nice enough room, he thought, gazing around. Sure, the walls were a bit boring and it was full of old boxes, but that could be sorted in no time. Then he’d have loads of space. He could have two full-length mirrors if he wanted them, and a whole table just for his hair products. Find some decent speakers, put up a few posters of Gary Numan and Ziggy Stardust… it’d be just like he’d always wanted.  
“Genius,” he muttered around the neck of the bottle, but his heart wasn’t in it.  
It was rubbish, being in a room on his own. He’d grown so used to sleeping next to Howard on the floor of the keepers’ hut, sleeping bags on hard boards feeling strangely comfortable when he was next to his best friend. The sudden loss of that comfortable sharing of space left Vince feeling slightly empty. The only other time he’d been alone at nights was-  
 _no. ___  
He sat upright, losing all pretence of slouching back against the pillows. The bottle slipped from his hand and spilled cola over his sheets. Swearing, panic beginning to clutch at his chest, he hurled the bottle across the room, hearing it smash against the stack of paint. Memories flooded his mind, memories he’d rather he never had to relive again. Howard, lying on the floor of Bollo’s enclosure, still in his monkey suit. Himself, shaking Howard’s shoulder, laughing at first when he didn’t move. Howard rolling over beneath his hands, blank eyes staring sightlessly upwards. The mess of a funeral Fossil had thrown together, not good enough, nowhere near good enough. The lingering feeling, even now, that it had been Vince’s fault.  
He was breathing too heavily, but no oxygen was reaching his lungs. Tremors shook his body with every gulp of air and tears began to collect in his eyes. It hurt, everything hurt, it hadn’t been this bad in _years ___, not since before the zoo. Swear words began to tumble from his mouth and then the light was too bright in his sore eyes and Howard was stumbling in.  
“Little man? Vince, what happened? I thought I heard-”  
Vince shook his head frantically, the words doing nothing but making the attack worse. He still couldn’t breathe properly but he gestured for Howard to come closer and thanked his lucky stars when the taller man understood. The bed shifted and Howard reached out for him but it was too fast and Vince reared back, suddenly feeling sick and cornered. He barely had time to make it to the window and wrench it open before he was retching, the sad remains of what little he’d eaten that day spattering onto the pavement below. Icy water soaked his hair in seconds but he didn’t care, hanging limply out over the street with his eyes closed until he felt Howard’s hand at his back. The older man began to trace small, soothing circles across Vince’s back, fingers slowly curling into the material until he could tug Vince back inside.  
“Shh, Vince, I’ve got you,” he murmured as Vince folded into his arms, sobbing. He wasn’t searching for air anymore; he was broken. Rainwater trickled down his back and he shivered between sobs. Howard’s arms wrapped around him and carefully lowered them both down onto the bed. Vince closed his eyes and breathed in his friend’s scent until the panic faded.  
“Alright, little man?” said Howard quietly into Vince’s wet hair, rocking him ever so slightly. “You scared me. I’ve never seen it that bad.”  
“Yeah… ‘m okay,” whispered Vince, all the exhaustion of the previous three days creeping up on him.  
“What caused that?”  
“Nightmare. Dream. Memory. Thing.”  
Howard frowned at Vince’s muddled explanation.  
“What do you mean memory? What’s happened that was that bad?”  
Vince felt Howard’s arms tighten around him as he spoke. He could practically hear the taller man’s protective instincts kicking in. Carefully, so as not to reawaken the memories, he shook his head.  
“Don’t think I can. Sorry.”  
Howard shushed him, and Vince’s heart skipped a beat as he realised how easy it would be for Howard to kiss him. For a split second he considered leaning up and initiating things himself, but that could upset the delicate balance of warmth he already had. Howard was always the one to shy away from contact, from relationships. It was only at times like these, late at night and with nobody around to impress, that Howard relaxed enough to let Vince come this close. If he knew about how the smaller man felt then he’d be afraid of even this. Vince wouldn’t ever do that to him. It was so rare to see Howard comfortable in his own skin that he was willing to sacrifice his own selfish desires for it.  
“Don’t you worry, little man. I’m here now, alright?”  
Howard lifted his head and so did Vince, looking around the room. Howard mused out loud.  
“You know, I think we could get two beds in here. What do you think?”  
He smiled at Vince, whose eyes were already darting around, calculating dimensions. He’d have to sacrifice one of his mirrors, and maybe limit himself to only one or two posters. There was no contest.  
“Genius,” he smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Still in love with these guys, still don't own them.


End file.
